The Kiss of the Bat

Bat bites are difficult to see and may not be felt.

- CDC, Div. of Public Affairs

The chief concern was “bat bite.” There was no mystery in those words. The mystery began when the concern was personified, as in, “A bat bit my daughter.” That’s medicine.

True StoriesJulia NusbaumSeptember 1, 2021Motherhood, doctor, fear, Growing upComment

How Motherhood Made Me Better

I used to view the world only in terms of how it related to myself. What I could see of it, gain from it, and change of it. All my time and energy used to go into making plans for myself and improving who I was. Then I became a mother and everything changed.

True StoriesJulia NusbaumSeptember 12, 2018feminism, Storytelling, motherhood, fear, loveComment

4:00 AM Madness

Startled, I awaken in an anxiety born stupor. It's 4:00 a.m.Sunday morning. In the distance a siren announces a 911 while a car alarm bellows out of control. Cars race an uncontrollable rage through empty streets. Light flickers through my window yet I know there is no light outside other than the moon displaying it's devilish grin. Is it a warning?

True StoriesJulia NusbaumOctober 11, 2017storytelling, feminism, anxiety, fear Comments

About Damn Time

My mother pushed herself to graduate high school in three years rather than four and was therefore able to start university studies at age 17. She'd been in love with a boy since she was 14, and she wanted to be at the university with him. Her father didn't approve of this boy (he suspected that the boy was of sub-standard ethnic stock, and he also knew that the boy's family was far less wealthy and educated than his own). Mom, with the support of her own mother, didn't obey her father's instructions not to see the boy; Mom said that from the first moment she saw him, she knew that he was the love of her life.

True StoriesJulia NusbaumOctober 12, 2016feminism, Storytelling, parents, family, fear, still born, life Comment

The Story of a Sketchy Road and Two Men I Met, Neither of Whom Raped Me

I had been in graduate school for over three years but hadn’t taken a night class. So when I started teaching Psych 280: Community Psychology from 6:00 pm to 8:30 pm, it was very possibly the first time I had found myself walking alone at night across campus. For the first week, I followed my autopilot footsteps – the same path I walked home every single day.